The Torchbearers Come
On January, rich darkness, and ancient moonlight
Tonight is Pełnia Starego Księżyca - Full Old Moon as my Polish ancestors often referred to the rising light in the late January night sky.
This moon is often cold and brutal. It makes sense to me. Marzanna—goddess of death and winter—isn’t exactly a practitioner of hygge.
She is also often associated with heavy rainfall. So, here in Western Canada, on the unceded territories of the of the xʷməθkwəy̓əm (Musqueam), Skwxwú7mesh (Squamish), and Səl̓ílwətaʔ/Selilwitulh (Tsleil-Waututh) Nations, the ancient goddess seems to be hard at work.
I came across a post from Joanna Powell Colbert this morning about naming the full moon based on the state of the Earth around me. The rain has soaked coastal BC for the last five days straight and will soak it for at least five more without reprieve. It is incredibly unlikely we will even get a glimpse of this full moon. So, I propose we call it the Shrouded Moon, Grey Moon, or Moon of the Place Beyond the Clouds because, well, it’s in hiding.
It seems we all are a bit in hiding currently. January is a fallow time. A bit of a wasteland. Anna Brones made a great case for January as an in-between month where we creatively percolate and plant seeds rather than slay goals like 50,000 words on a novel or complete that book of poetry.
Based on my current level of Meh and an ever-growing list of creative sparks with potential to turn into stories or art, I’m on team Anna, and I am not alone.
A friend recently sent me this text:
I’m in one of those modes where it’s hard to motivate and to focus. I get to do what I love and haven’t been getting enough of it. Yet, here I am.
Yet, here we are.
For many of us, the cave called deeply this winter and we listened. For me, December turned out to be one of the coziest and softest ever. A dark, warm space of incubation and delight.
January, however, found me having rolled the stone away from the door to the cave and let all of that sweet, soothing air out. I had to get back to teaching, rejoin the outside world, put on actually pants (see my silly ode below). But, I liked the cave (she says with a joking-not-joking whine). I found that I even preferred the cave, did my best work in it, made those deep juicy discoveries that are a bit of magic.
So, I tried running back in and now the cave is dark and cold. Yet, my longing to make good on all of the inspo I dug up over the holidays meant I got stuck searching for all of that somewhere inside.
I’m stuck in the cave. Can’t get myself out no matter how much coffee I drink, Scrivener projects I start, or naps I take convinced I will wake up refreshed and ready to roll.
Soon, I am face-to-face with Hekate, realizing it’s her cave I have entered. Of course, that also means I am in for a wild ride. She, like Marzanna, is no charmer. She sets you off on generally painful quests to figure your sh@t out.
That’s where the night of the Full Old Moon—Pełnia Starego Księżyca—reveals itself.
If Marzanna, Hekate, and Anna Brones are right, this grey, twilight season of the year gives us all the more reason to go searching for our own light.
Hekate’s nymphs, the Lampades, don’t abandon us in the cave. They whip out the torches and let that low, natural light guide us along the way. Dr. Cyndi Brannen in her book Entering Hekate’s Cave encourages us to experience the magic of turning off the electricity for a while and letting candlelight be our soft guide.
The Lampades become our Full Old Moon, allowing us to see in the dark and begin to find our way through. These mythological chthonic spirits are comforting in that they allow us to explore our own personal mysteries, plumb those depths, turn over the soil in order to set right what is meant to come in the next season. All while they protect us from marauders, keep us on the path, and allow us only a mild fear of the dark.
I think of it like my own garden. Some seeds need to be stratified. They need the dark wet, then hard frost, with no light at all, to bloom into the most spectacular flowers or magical herbs of the season when the moon is barely alight in the sky because the sun stays so long. If I don’t do that, I can’t plant them later. They will never even sprout.
So, we stick it out in the cave for a while longer, do the hard work of preparing ourselves, and get to know the torchbearers who bring the light to these dark, fallow days.
Beautiful Robin!